by
Alice Street
Big Pigeon was getting restless.
"I must continue my work," he thought, as he leafed through the latest edition of the only paper in town.
But his busy pigeon mind was interrupted when Mrs Big Pigeon called him to dinner.
"Big Pigeon! Big Pigeon! Get your big pigeon a*se inside!" she yelled.
Apart from making random cooing sounds, they ate dinner in silence, pecking at their seeds. Nowadays there wasn't much to talk about. But it had nothing to do with the fact that Mr and Mrs Big Pigeon had nothing in common and nothing to talk about, or that they were pigeons. And yet, it hadn't always been this way - they once lived an idyllic life with their feathery friends and family - until the mass exterminations.
After dinner, Big Pigeon returned to his study and the only paper in town. The lies, mixed messages, hypocrisy, war mongering, misogyny, bigotry and racism leapt off the pages and were absorbed into his feathery body. The infuriating banality and detachment caused him to grow bigger and bigger, and his little pigeon brain more confused and angry, but he couldn't stop, the only paper in town was the only reading material that he had. Piles of them lined the shelves and the floors - which was just as well - because Big Pigeon did really big pigeon poos.
He turned to the king and queen on page thirteen and couldn't contain his fury any longer. He marched to the cupboard, his head violently bobbing forward with every step. As he opened the doors, the first few bars of 'Streets of Your Town' rang out. Big Pigeon's blood was boiling as he took out his Big Pigeon outfit - a red, white and blue Lycra costume with a gold "BP" emblazoned across the chest.
There was banging on the door.
"What are you doing in there?" yelled Mrs Big Pigeon.
"I know what you're doing....stop! STOP!!!"
She crashed through the door, feathers flying, but it was too late.
****
Emma looked out over the Brisbane River as a Citycat coursed through the brown water. She waved, but none of the passengers waved back - they were concentrating on the beauty of the long, brown river.
Emma was at the pinnacle of the Southbank Wheel and although she was very high she could just make out the eddies of corruption curving past the construction sites and endless traffic on the riverside expressway. An ibis flew past and honked several times, but Emma couldn't hear it because the cabin was hermetically sealed.
She looked over at the weather beacon to see if it was going to rain, but
the meteorological lights had been switched off because of global warming.
This was rather peculiar given that most of the Hitachi building's lights were regularly left on all night.
Her stomach lurched, but she was optimistic as the wheel turned bringing her down to earth. She had really enjoyed her morning at the Art Gallery, pretending to be interested in all the paintings and sculptures. She went to the State Library too because she had seen an article about studying your family history in the only paper in town. That was also fun because although the microfiche lady had been incredibly rude, Emma had managed to draw cartoons of willies and boobs and pictures of men dying with falafels in their hand in some of the indexes.
Indeed it was a luxury for Emma to have the day off - spying on her fellow citizens was very often all consuming, especially cleaning the historic houses of Spring Hill's sole surviving madams. What spiteful old bitches they could be.
The nausea Emma had experienced while riding the Southbank Wheel had subsided, so she decided to have a swim. Emma wandered over to the Kodak beach where several menacing looking pedophiles were lurking by the shore. Safe in the knowledge she was in her mid-30s, Emma peeled off her shorts and top, did a couple of cartwheels and jumped into the water even though a sign said "No Diving". She splashed about a bit and probably contracted a nasty ear infection. Emma emerged from the water, dried herself off and wandered around checking out the markets.
After deciding on some aromatherapy oils and a jar of bush honey, she was inexplicably drawn to a display table of intricate necklaces unlike any she had ever seen before. One of the necklaces comprised a locket, which was empty, surrounded by pattern of delicate glass beads and tiny feathers.
"How much is this one?" she asked the stall holder who was reading a copy of the only paper in town and muttering away to himself. He looked up.
"For you - ten dollars," he replied, stroking his beard.
"But only on the condition that you wear it now."
"Yeah, whatever," she said, handing him the ten dollars.
He helped her with the clasp.
"Very nice," he said.
"It really suits you."
Emma decided she really felt like a couple of Krispy Kreme donuts. As she was making her way to the Victoria Bridge, she stopped momentarily to watch a couple of aboriginal teenagers being rough-handled by a couple of burly policemen
"Help! Help!" one cried, before being tazed, and collapsing on the ground.
The other stopped and stared at Emma's necklace before being bundled into the esky ute.
There was nothing Emma could do other than feel embarrassed and look away quickly. She stroked the little feathers on the necklace, and resolved to write a long letter about the incident to the editor of the only paper in town.
Emma's stomach rumbled as she strode purposefully along the bridge. It was muggy and the city looked ominous in the midday heat - a hotch potch of misshapen buildings, cronyism and diabolical plots baking in the sun.
She paused halfway to gaze out over the long, brown Brisbane River. A couple of jet skiers approached at high speed and she waved at them. One of the jet skiers fell off and Emma laughed out loud as he cursed, splashed and spluttered. His companion shook his fist at Emma and she gave him the finger, before continuing across the bridge.
"Hi Emma!"
A familiar face beamed out of the crowd. It was Emma's friend Charlotte - who wore rectangular framed glasses and lived in West End. Like most people who worked in the CBD, she wore a very large lanyard and worked for the government.
"Hi Charlotte! How's it going?"
Charlotte held strong views about many things, but like every government employee never said how she really felt because she could lose her job.
"Not bad. I've just been at a high powered government breakfast with lots of other people who wear rectangular framed glasses and live in West End," she said.
"It was kind of a promotional event for putting recycled sewage in the South East Queensland water supply," she added.
"I know," said Emma.
Part of her job as a "media monitor" involved spying on her colleagues.
"Yeah, 'you know who' was there, and get this - they served "Crappucinos" - isn't that wildly clever?"
"Genius," Emma replied with fake enthusiasm.
'You know who' was a "whatever it takes" type, who had made it his life's purpose to marginalise and crush any eruptions of commonsense and decency, and Emma wasn't too keen on drinking hospital waste.
"Wow I like your necklace," Charlotte exclaimed, reaching over rudely and opening the locket of Emma's new necklace.
"Why a picture of a seagull?" she asked,
"What seagull?"
She was right. A picture of a seagull stared out of the locket.
"What tha? I just bought it at the markets and there wasn't any picture in it then," said Emma feeling vaguely weird.
"Oh," said Charlotte suddenly remembering that Emma had a nervous breakdown a few months ago and changing the subject.
"Hey, how's your Dad?"
"Oh, he died in excruciating agony last month because Nembutal isn't legal in Australia, and our hospitals have become torture chambers for the sick."
Oh God, I'm really sorry Emma - are you OK?"
"No. Not really. I'm actually suicidal, but there's no way I'm going to take any mind warping anti-depressants!"
"Yeah. Good call. Well, I'm sorry to rush off but I'd better go, I'm in a bit of a hurry - I have to liaise with some homeless people in Kurilpa Park and formulate a strategic framework in terms of some outcomes and trajectories. What are you up to?"
"I'm going to get some Krispy Kreme donuts, so yeah, I'd best get a wriggle on," Emma replied.
"OK. See you at pole dancing class!"
"Bye Charlotte!"
Emma took another look at the picture inside the locket. The seagull stared back. Perhaps the stallholder slipped the picture in when she wasn't looking? It was bizarre, but nevertheless she crossed North Quay as fast as she could because the traffic signals in Brisbane's CDB don't give pedestrians enough time to cross safely. She looked across at the Shingle Inn and sized up the patrons.
"Are you enjoying your passionfruit sponge you clueless w*nkers? It's not the real Shingle Inn you know! That's been destroyed, just like every other rare and beautiful place in this town!!" she yelled at them.
"See this ring?" she screamed at a frightened little old lady.
The large diamond sparkled in the bright, Brisbane sunlight.
"Tiffanys!"
"See this handbag?" she screamed at a perplexed businessman.
"Louis Vuitton!"
She was creating a scene, and everyone in the cafe stopped eating and stared, including a City Council security guard, who began to talk furiously into his walkie-talkie, but it was too late - Emma ran like the clappers across George Street, through the crowds of people in the Queen Street Mall and into the Myer Centre.
She didn't know what had come over her and although she suspected it had something to do with her new necklace, she took a deep breath and left it on.
After trying nearly every perfume in Myers, she stole a pair of earrings and hotfooted it into the mall, where a group of male office workers were leering at a fashion parade.
Emma's stomach was really grumbling now, but by the time she reached the Krispy Kremes store on Albert Street there was a long queue of fat, stupid people.
"F*ck it!" she exclaimed, wishing she was a policeman.
There was no way she was going to stand in a queue.
She looked over at City Hall and King George Square. Rather symbolically, City Hall was sinking - crumbling into the sewer. King George Square was surrounded by an electrified fence and surveillance cameras, designed to protect Brisbane's citizens from the evils associated with public spaces and statues of social reformers. Security guards and dogs patrolled the perimeter.
At that very instant, Emma's mobile phone rang. It was her friend Cameron who also wore a lanyard and worked in the office of a large mining company.
"Hey Emma. You in town? How about meeting me for lunch?"
"Hi Cameron. That'd be fantastic. Meet you at the usual?"
"OK. See you there in 10."
Before hurling abuse at a courier swinging into Albert Street, Emma elbowed her way through the crowds of people wielding very large containers of juice.
"I wonder if they realise they could grow their own oranges and make their own juice," she thought to herself.
"After all, the Lord Mayor and the only paper in town have been encouraging citizens to grow their own fruit and vegetables."
The Queen Street Mall was very crowded and a large group of emos had gathered outside Hungry Jacks, which added to the vibrancy and cultural diversity of the inner-city.
By the time Emma reached the restaurant, the crowds had dispersed somewhat, but there were many more suits and ties and the atmosphere was considerably more uptight.
In fact Emma felt as if people were glaring at her.
She spied Cameron.
"Cameron!" she yelled.
"Hey Emma!"
They gave each other a hug and ventured inside the restaurant.
A waiter greeted them and escorted them to a table overlooking the river, which was brown.
Although the restaurant was very busy, Brisbane is still a big country town, so the diners stopped eating their sand crab lasagne and stared at Emma.
"So what's the latest?" asked Emma, feeling somewhat uncomfortable.
"Well your research has proved very useful," he said, laughing at the thought of the clueless environmental groups.
"Gee that's a nice necklace!" he exclaimed.
With his ridiculous haircut, and in his pink shirt and bright orange tie, Emma thought Cameron was so handsome she would die. Unfortunately, although he didn't know it himself, Cameron was gay - and Emma didn't have a snowflake's chance in hell of getting romantic with him.
A man with no clothes on ran past the restaurant listening to the Brisbane Sound on his iPod.
As Cameron leapt up to run after him, a large shadow descended over the city and the long, brown river.
Emma looked up to see a large, Lycra clad pigeon circling above. She froze in her seat as sirens began to wail and people started screaming and running away.
"I am Big Pigeon!" he boomed.
"I have returned to reclaim my rightful place in King George Square and bring justice to this city," he said, landing directly in front of Emma's table.
Emma was terrified. She tried to get up and run away, but couldn't move.
Big Pigeon spied her necklace.
"Oh, no, the seagull..." he explained, before exploding into a million pigeon pieces.
Needless to say, he never did return to City Hall, or bring justice to Brisbane.
THE END.